A Voyage
by Rae An
Summary: Theresa knows there's something different about Lucy. Perhaps the other side of the water-fountain picture frame has some answers. Rated T just to be safe.
1. An Outside World

**Author's Note**: I've based some of the plotline, dialogue, and characters of this story off three different sources: C.S. Lewis's _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_, the movie _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_, and Focus on the Family's audio drama interpretation of _The Chronicles of_ _Narnia_(one of my favorite entertainments as a little kid). My ages for the children are Lucy, 15, Theresa, 16, Eustace, 16, and Edmund, 17. This is my very first fanfic and there are probably some mistakes, both grammatically and otherwise. So feel free to comment with some constructive criticism.

**Cover Art**: It is an ink drawing which I worked the style and design of from Pauline Baynes' illustration at the beginning of Chapter XII, The Dark Island, in _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_, a part of The Chronicles of Narnia book set published in 1970 by Macmillan Publishing Company.

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**Chapter 1**: An Outside World

* * *

Theresa heard Lucy, but she wasn't listening. Her attention was strained past the girl sitting cross-legged on the bed to the boy standing behind her, hands in pockets, and staring at some object on the wall—the observation of which her current tunnel vision wouldn't allow. Her eyes followed his bowed legs up to his trouser pockets stuffed with fists stretching the pants tight past their measured fit. Theresa 's eyes rolled along his back curving with relaxed posture and through his feathered hair curling around his head. Edmund was a year older than herself and, the way Lucy talked about him, no less than the handsome boy standing before her.

As she was told by Lucy there was another, older one away studying. Peter, she thought. And then there was Susan. Before even meeting Lucy in a second semester class Theresa had known of Susan. Her beauty was all anyone ever mentioned about her. Thankfully Theresa had no need to contend with Susan. Susan, as Lucy had said, was across the ocean in America of which Theresa was often reminded with complaints from the younger sister. She almost felt sorry for Lucy. With a legacy left by such a beloved, proceeding sister, Lucy had failed so many unreasonable expectations from students and even teachers at the academy, becoming to be known simply as "Susan's sister" by many. By the way Lucy went on about her older sibling Theresa discerned that Lucy loved, respected, but envied the beauty of her sister not only on account of her pleasing appearance but also because of the attention Susan received as result of that appearance. As a youngest child Lucy was sometimes forgotten by her family and more often ignored by those at the academy.

But who was Theresa to hand out sympathies to attention-starved individuals when she herself was struggling to keep her stomach full? She wasn't noticed in the same way that other girls at the school were for their looks or favorable social abilities. However by no measurement was Theresa unattractive. It was often that fact that drove her peers away. Her classmates were sometimes intimidated by her dark curls and nonchalant features. To them she became something of a mystery to be solved. Lacking the flighty and obnoxious actions and flirtatious mannerisms of most girls her age, she carried herself with a confident and almost aloof air. But Theresa knew how to play with a conversation. When meeting a new classmate she always found amusement in dancing around them with her words and maneuvering through banter with her wits; she always turned away from those conversations with a characteristic smirk, hitching the right corner of her lips up into a sly expression.

But her first encounter with Lucy was different. Well, Lucy was different. She shared Theresa's old soul. Lucy appeared young, but although Theresa was a year older than Lucy, when she and Lucy interacted it seemed as if Lucy had aged far beyond her years already—as if she had had experiences and lessons of someone much older than herself. Theresa often seemed to herself to be misplaced among her own classmates. It was not that she felt superior to them, but simply that she felt more mature, older, than her peers. She wanted so badly to be recognized as an adult. She looked and played the part; Theresa was just still thought of as a girl. The array of opportunities for conversation and interaction—attention—with adults who wouldn't shy away from her or bore her was dangling by just a few years right above her head. And she constantly snapped at it as the days trotted by.

"It makes it worse just seeing a picture of one," Edmund mumbled mostly to himself. But Lucy turned on the bed, knowing he was speaking about the object on the wall. With Edmund's words Theresa took a moment to glance at it. She recognized it as a painting. The work wasn't very large but the quality of the artist's strokes more than compensated for its size. The creator had conjured a sea with rolling blue waters, tinted green with the light of the sun and purple with the shadows of the depths. The sky above was a gray with clouds, a bright white where the artist had depicted the sun flooding through the haze. Theresa was so entranced by the cool colors that it took her keen eyes a moment to spot the small ship having just crested the summit of one of the hills and plowing down the slope of it. She could just make out the snarling dragon's head at the prow and a billowing, purple sail taut with wind supported by a single mast. The ship was small in comparison with to entirety of the picture, but Theresa imagined she could spot a tiny helmsman wrestling with the wheel. Immediately Theresa knew that Edmund was referring to the magnificent ship and not the sea.

"Yes, and she is such a very Narnian ship," Lucy murmured dazed by the painting. Lucy and Edmund knew something more regarding the depicted boat than Theresa did. The painting was beautiful but didn't retain the emotional power to normally extract these reactions from Edmund and Lucy.

"A Narnian ship?" Theresa questioned. And almost as if on cue, entered the pig.

"A Narnian ship!" he mocked with a squeaking, congested cry. "Oh I see, you're still playing at your old game, aren't you?" By now all three were on their feet confronting this unwanted visitor. Eustace Clarence Scrubb, the cousin at whose house Edmund and Lucy were staying while their parents and siblings were away, always found ways to torment the two Pevensies. Lucy had told Theresa about how he had hidden beetles in Edmund's bed and many times left Lucy to clean all the dishes. The boy was the small, squeamish type to be picked on at school by the bigger students. But Theresa perceived that when he had an opportunity, the weasel enjoyed bullying just as much as those who bullied him. She had only just met him this afternoon when she came with Lucy and Edmund on an outing to the grocery. He had greeted her with a quick up-and-down assessment and a "Well seeing as she has no wings, I'm not sure how I shall preserve her along with you two." When Theresa later questioned Lucy about the strange comment Lucy explained that she had walked past Edmund and Eustace's room one evening and heard Eustace mumbling to himself about "impaling relatives" while feverishly scribbling away at his journal.

"I didn't expect you to be a part of this, though," Eustace sneered turning to Theresa. "Well I see they've managed to… _snare_ you with their fairy tales, haven't they?" He raised his eyebrows, mimicking sympathy.

"Lucy, what is he talking about?" Theresa asked in honest befuddlement. "What have you not told me?"

"Oh, so they _haven't_ bombarded you with stories about their fantasy world?" He took a step closer, hands clasped behind his back. The skinny boy smelled like tea leaves and steamed vegetables.

"It's not a fantasy world. It's real!" Lucy cried, shying away from Theresa's interrogation.

"I'm thinking of a limerick." The boy paused with a finger over his mouth, apparently formulating his words. "Something like this:

Some kids who played games about Narnia

Got gradually balmier and balmier!"

"Well _Narnia_ and _balmier_ don't rhyme," Lucy quietly objected.

"And the assonance only fits because of your ridiculously congested vocal chords," Theresa added.

"That's it exactly! Assonance!" Eustace piped. "Finally I've made the company of someone who understands proper poetic devices," the blonde boy crowed.

"Don't expect that I will ever again be the one to entertain your need for poetically adept company," Theresa chided.

"What's an assona—," Lucy began.

"Oh, don't even ask," Edmund spoke up, arms crossed over his chest. Directly to Eustace he said, "Say nothing and perhaps he'll go away," acknowledging the presence of his cousin but restricting him to a state of namelessness.

"Do you like that picture, Lucy?" Eustace asked, his voice suddenly assuming a surprisingly tender tone.

"For heaven's sake don't let him get started on art and all that," Edmund moaned as Lucy in innocent honesty responded, "Yes, I do. I like it very much."

"I think it's a rotten picture." Eustace's typical cruel edge returned.

"Yet not quite so rotten as your stench, little pig," Theresa chirped. Edmund snickered. Eustace glared.

"_Why_ do you like it, Lucy?" The sudden switch to a convincingly, sensitive address.

"Well for one thing," Lucy began, "The ship looks like it's really going somewhere. And the waves look like they're really moving, as if they're _really_ going up and down."

"Oh, that's your _expert_ artistic opinion, is it?" Once again his voice retained its sharp pitch.

"Lucy, the waves _are_ moving," Theresa whispered. She could barely believe what she was seeing. The greens, blues, and purples were flowing across the canvas. No, the _water_ was flowing across the canvas.

"I say, Lu! Look at that!" Edmund exclaimed.

"Edmund, do you think… maybe—" Lucy began.

"What is this? What kind of trick is this?" Eustace cried.

Suddenly the moving water started dripping out of the frame and then pouring and then suddenly the four saw a wave rear up, obscuring the ship, sky, and rest of the sea. They all closed their eyes, but on came the flood. The salty surge cascaded from the frame, first onto the standing four's faces and then onto the wood floor. The icy deluge began lapping at their feet and after the initial shock of a sudden blast of freezing water in his face had faded Eustace wailed, "This isn't funny! Make it stop! Make it stop this moment!" Theresa, now considering her shock more than her safety, looked to Edmund and Lucy for their response only to find them grinning like schoolchildren at each other.

"I'll tell Alberta!" Eustace threatened. Realizing that he was being ignored he then said to himself, "I'll just smash the darn thing." Lucy overhearing his intentions cried, "Eustace, no!" Eustace waded toward the waterfall pouring from the picture still hanging on the wall and attempted to pull it from its fixture. He snatched either side of the frame, sea water spewing into his face, and yanked it from the wall. Edmund jerked Eustace's scrawny arm and Eustace began struggling with both Edmund and the object, still flooding freezing water. The pool at Theresa's feet had reached her waist. Eustace and Edmund crashed into the standing pool, the frame spouting a blast of water like a loose garden hose, knocking Lucy down into the pool.

"Lucy!" Theresa yelled. Taking a breath she dived under the water that had now risen to her neck. Below Theresa saw the furniture from the room floating along with a flailing Eustace. Although the salty sea water burned her eyes badly she spotted Lucy and Edmund swimming to the sunlight at the surface of the pool. Theresa didn't remember there being a skylight in the Scrubb's home. She followed Lucy to the surface and as she inhaled violently for oxygen could barely hear Lucy screaming at her to swim. A shadow fell over her and Theresa saw without turning a prow of a boat of magnanimous size looming over her, already upon her. Diving through the surf Theresa swam down and then out, hoping to head in Lucy's direction. She managed to emerge beside Lucy, now struggling to tread water and heard a wailing Eustace being hauled from the depths by Edmund. For the first moment since she surfaced Theresa realized that she wasn't in a house.


	2. Cold Waters and Warm Welcomes

**Author's Note**: This is the second chapter to a hopefully durable story. I'd really appreciate some feedback as this is only my second fanfic. I'm a fan of constructive compliments and an even bigger fan of constructive criticism so please write a comment or review containing either, neither, or, better yet, both.

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**Chapter 2**: Cold Waters and Warm Welcomes

* * *

From Theresa's vulnerable position in the water she had a full view of the ship surging in front of her. While she marveled at the size of the enormous hull crushing waves which would swallow her whole, yells drifted from the deck and then four figures came diving from it. She assumed these swimmers, whoever they were, were acquaintances as neither Lucy nor Edmund seemed afraid. However all the while Eustace continued to wail about magic tricks and Alberta. Theresa couldn't blame Eustace, though. Normally a sudden introduction to such an unknown setting with no previous knowledge of it would frighten her also. But this event was so bizarre. It was so bizarre that the elements of shock and aberration overshadowed those of dismay and trepidation.

Suddenly a golden head emerged from the water beside her. Theresa jerked in surprise. Realizing it was a diver from the ship, she relaxed but was still chilled from the shock.

"If it was your aim to frighten me, you succeeded," Theresa growled, wondering why the man couldn't have approached her from above the water. The man chuckled at her ferocity.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't my intent," he apologized, his long blonde hair clinging to his clean-shaven face like stringy tentacles. "My name is Lane," he said.

"Theresa," she replied incredulously.

"Let's get to the ship quickly before those skirts anchor you to the bottom of the ocean!" he joked, referring to her dress. It wasn't sewn from long or thick fabric, but Theresa could feel the weight of her saturated, knee-length skirt begin to tug at her waist with the undulation of the waters, acting as an underwater sail propelling her with the current.

"I never did like them," Theresa said, remembering all the times she had wished to be a boy if only for the more comfortable clothing. The man started toward her and began wrapping his arms around her body to swim with her back to the ship, but she lurched away. Well she moved away as quickly as one can while surrounded with water.

"_That_ won't be necessary. I believe I can swim perfectly well by myself, thank you," she cautioned quickly. She wasn't in the mood to be physically handled by a complete stranger. The man hastily retracted his arms.

"It's just that these waves can be rough," Lane replied submissively. "I didn't mean any harm. Just stay close to me and follow me back to the ship."

"I'll keep my distance," Theresa responded warily. Swimming back to the side of the boat was much more difficult than she had imagined, but she was far too proud to ask Lane for assistance. The waves would rise before her and just after cresting over them she would be pulled back by their undertow. She felt as if she was making no progress. But Lane was still just in front of her. The distance seemed to lengthen with each kick and dip. What appeared to be a few feet from where she had first surfaced was felt more like miles. Soon her limbs began to wear and her muscles became loose. Her only thoughts became staying above the next hill rising before her with a few painful strokes or resisting the tug beneath her with an arduous flutter of legs. She knew nothing but exhaustion—extreme exhaustion. Theresa had never been so utterly enervated in her life. She had never considered swimming to be a draining task, but now Theresa supposed that she would simply lose any control of her limbs and sink. While she was considering this she realized that she was flying. No, hoisted into the air by something. There was a tension around her waist and she was sitting in a loop of rope like a swing. Lane was in the loop with her and was steadying her with his arm. When they were finally pulled onto the deck Theresa attempted to stand. Her legs wouldn't support her so she leaned back against the railing of the boat, a hand outstretched for balance on either side. Slumping against the wall and putting all her weight on her hands and arms, she breathed in deep gulps of air, not loudly but in great enough quantities to cause a visible rise and fall of her chest. After a few seconds of recovery she realized an eerie awareness crawling over her body in chilling waves like insects. Theresa observed her surroundings, specifically the people, and caught sight of the hungry gazes of bearded men and curious stares of adolescent boys just before they averted their faces from her glances. Confused she looked down at herself. Her dress entirely soaked with water, clung closely to every curve of her body like a plaster mold. The light color of the floral fabric had taken on an almost transparent quality with its saturation and while being dragged onto the ship, the skirt of Theresa's dress had hiked up dangerously onto her thighs. Before she had any more time to realize her shame a young man with the beginnings of a dark beard and flowing, raven hair draped her in a towel, enveloping her embarrassment with the dry blanket. He turned to Lucy and Edmund, shaking from cold, who had arrived on the deck before Theresa had.

"Caspian?" Lucy gasped. Both her and Edmund's blue faces lit with a smile at the reunion with this friend. He stepped over the deck to them and embraced them both.

"My friends!" he exclaimed. "Welcome aboard the Dawn Treader!" he said gesturing to the ship. Quickly he turned to a bald, beardless man with tan skin. The man was very tall and thin and stood postured with hands held behind his back.

"This," Caspian said motioning to the man, "is Lord Drinian, the captain of our ship. Lord Drinian, King Edmund the Just and Queen Lucy the Valiant."

"Your majesties," Lord Drinian addressed them with a bow.

"Pleased to meet you," Edmund and Lucy responded. Theresa stood agape at this exchange. King? Queen? Apparently Lucy and Edmund had been to this place before.

"And who are your friends?" Caspian inquired turning back to Theresa and behind her a sputtering, moaning Eustace.

"This is Theresa Mattlock," Lucy said with a nod towards Theresa, her arms wrapped in a blanket just as Theresa's were.

"Very pleased to meet you, Theresa," Caspian remarked with a respectful nod. Theresa responded, "And you as well…"

"Caspian," he filled in for her. "King Caspian."

"Oh, well, the prospect of my appearance just became a bit more embarrassing knowing now that I'm in the presence of a king," Theresa sighed.

"It's no matter," Caspian replied with a smile. Gesturing towards the miserable creature bent over near the rail behind Theresa Caspian said, "And that one is…"

"That would be Eustace I'm afraid," Edmund sighed.

"Eustace," Caspian repeated, partly addressing the boy and partly testing the strangeness of the name on his tongue. "Well, it's a pleasure to ha—"

"No!" he shouted. "I _don't_ like it here." Lucy and Edmund sighed in exasperation.

"I want to go home right this minute," Eustace demanded.

"Oh, Eustace!" Edmund begged. The captain ordered Rhince, his first mate, to bring spiced wine to his cabin and then Caspian said to the visitors, "You'll need something to warm you after that dip and I'll have some dry clothes brought to you."

"In my cabin," Lord Drinian added. "This way." All but Eustace, who remained rooted to his spot, expressed thanks as they began trailing behind Drinian.

"Are you coming, Eustace?" Edmund questioned.

"No!" Eustace yelled. "I'm going home." Edmund threw up his hands and groaned.

"Oh, are you?" Theresa replied, one brow raised incredulously. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

"I… I don't know," Eustace said, beaten. "But they know!" he yelled, a fiery anger having returned. "This is all their fault somehow!" he growled pointing a shaking finger at Edmund and Lucy.

"Oh, do come along, Eustace," Lucy pleaded desperately.

"Yes and try not be such a baby about it," Edmund chided. Eustace began huffing and puffing in a fit.

"If I catch a bad cold," he began trudging after the group, "you're going to be sorry!"

"Oh, we already are," Theresa muttered, eliciting a few chuckles from the sailors standing near her.

* * *

The captain's cabin was a relatively large room directly below the bridge. The group had entered through the command room containing a table piled with maps and scrolls and taken some stairs leading directly down to the cabin from the room. The cabin contained a bed, dresser, small lectern, and a chest and was flooded with light streaming through windows overlooking the waters from the stern of the ship. A tall, round table, more like a stool, was set out with bottle of the ordered spiced wine and mugs from which to drink. King Caspian handed Lucy and Theresa two sets of clothing and Edmund and Eustace two others.

"I've made arrangements for the ladies," King Caspian spoke to Theresa and Lucy, "to share my quarters directly on the right from Lord Drinian's cabin. So you two," Caspian nodded to Edmund and Eustace, "and I will be making use of a few extra bunks or hammocks in the crew's sleeping quarters." Eustace moaned audibly and Edmund shut him up with an elbow.

"King Caspian, I insist, let Rhince sleep in with the crew. There is no need for the king to be in such a position when there is an open cabin," Drinian began.

"No, Lord Drinian, the cabin is not open. Rhince will be using it and will be in far greater need of it than I. So it is all settled. Theresa and Queen Lucy will use my cabin," Caspian concluded.

"Well, if those are your orders, so be it," Drinian conceded.

"Queen Lucy and Theresa, after you have changed your clothes, you may meet with us back in the bridge," Caspian said. Without even looking at the apparel she had been handed, Theresa started towards the door. Her thoughts were dominated by the one to get out of the slimy clothes clinging to her body. Once they were in the room and the door was closed, Lucy began helping Theresa out of her soaking dress.

"Lucy, you've got to tell me what's going on," Theresa said as she held her long hair up so Lucy could unzip the back of her dress.

"Oh, of course," Lucy replied. "I would have said something to you earlier, but I've just had no chance."

She stopped talking in an effort free Theresa's arms from their long-sleeves. She began pulling from the end of the sleeve, Theresa wriggling furiously against the vacuum her dress had become .

"Unh," Lucy fell back against the wall as Theresa's arm came free with a loud _shloop_. Both girls laughed while Theresa helped Lucy back up with her now free arm, the detestable sleeve dangling from her dress by her side.

"Well," Lucy began, "it all started when we were staying at the professor's house about two years ago. There was this old wardrobe that I had hidden in while we played hide and seek one afternoon when it was raining. I tried to hide at the back of the wardrobe, but there was no back. It just kept going and going until it became _here_. Well not here exactly. But in this world. Then it was cold and wintery just like it had been for about the last hundred years because of a Witch who ruled Narnia—that's _here_. I met a faun—a type of person with horns and goat legs—named Mr. Tumnus. When I came back out no time had passed, Peter had only just finished counting, when it seemed like I had been in Narnia for hours. Of course no one believed I had actually been anywhere. Until we were forced to hide in the wardrobe when we were running from Ms. McCreedy, then _all_ of us got here. I still think Aslan made that happen." Lucy told Theresa all about the White Witch and Aslan and the Beavers while she wrestled Theresa's other arm from her dress.

"So you and Edmund and Susan and Peter were all kings and queens?" Theresa inquired.

"Yes, and we lived there for about fifteen years," Lucy replied. Theresa was honestly amazed, which was no small accomplishment. It was no wonder why Lucy had seemed so mature when Theresa met her. Lucy had lived in another life, growing older and learning, for years. Yet she spoke as if it was a minor occurrence.

"So what about this King Caspian?" Theresa asked.

"Well, we didn't meet him until about a year ago when all four of us were taken to Narnia again while we were waiting for a train." Lucy proceeded to narrate the story of the Telmarine invasion and rule and Caspian's rebellion, while Theresa in turn began peeling away Lucy's dress. She told Theresa about the battles and Peter and Miraz's duel and the great celebrations afterwards. This world sounded dangerous, a perfect diversion from Theresa's known world.

After disentangling Lucy from her sleeves, Theresa removed her socks and shoes and then slid out of her skirts. She stretched her arms up and arched her back enjoying the freedom of movement never allowed by her usual straightjacket. Theresa could feel Lucy's eyes on her bare body as she relaxed again.

"You're so beautiful," Lucy commented. "Like Susan. She was in love, you know."

"With whom?" Theresa questioned.

"Caspian," Lucy said quietly. "I know he still loves her."

"And you?" Theresa asked. "Did you fall in love?" Lucy was quiet.

"No," she replied. Theresa recognized the longing in her voice.

"Don't be that way," Theresa began sympathetically. "It'll come in its own time."

"I know," Lucy said, head lowered, as she stepped out of her skirts. Theresa reached out to Lucy and the two embraced. Theresa wasn't normally so affectionate, but the younger girl held a special place in Theresa. Lucy was different. The girls pulled out of the hold realizing that they were still neither of them dressed.

"Now, let's put on some clothes before the sailors start talking," Theresa whispered with a wink. Lucy and Theresa laughed and Theresa handed Lucy her set of clothes. Unfolding the garments Theresa was pleased to be greeted with not a dress but a tunic and breeches.


	3. New Places, New People

**Author's Note**: This chapter's a bit longer than the other two; I just couldn't find a stopping point! Thanks for reading and if you get a chance, please write a much-appreciated comment/review.

* * *

**Chapter 3**: New Places, New People

* * *

Theresa stepped barefoot from the cabin door, having left her shoes to dry in the room. She liked the way the breeches fit like riding pants on her thighs and calves and came up to her waist while buttoning tightly around her ankles. The shirts Lucy and she had been given fit more loosely, hanging down to their hips while the bishop sleeves cinched at their wrists and left the cuffs to hang over their hands. Theresa especially liked the neckline which hung in a loose vee but could be tied shut with strings. Both girls had done the best they could to brush their hair with their fingers, but a few tendrils still remained matted and tangled.

Lucy knocked on Drinian's cabin door and Edmund's voice answered, "Come in." The first thing Theresa noticed upon entering the room was Edmund's change in appearance. He had forsaken his soggy sweater and drenched trousers for breeches similar to Theresa's but which ended directly below his knees. And he now wore a dark, fleece shirt buttoning up the front and around his wrists. The new clothes were a positive alternative to his soaked English outfit. As she looked toward his face, Theresa just managed to catch his glance in her direction; a girl wearing pants wasn't a typical sight in Britain.

"Eustace!" Lucy griped. "Why didn't you share that with _us_?" Theresa turned to see Eustace, his back to them, methodically brushing his hair, which gleamed having already been run through with the comb multiple times.

"Well, if you'll have some patience, like I've had all this time with these seafaring, ninny-headed loons," Eustace grumbled, "then perhaps I'll consider allowing you to borrow the brush for a certain amount of time, which of course will be completely dependent upon—"

"That's not even yours, Eustace," Theresa scoffed. Eustace having been distracted Edmund took the opportunity to snatch the comb from Eustace's hand.

"Hey!" Eustace yelled clawing wildly for the object.

"Ed!" Theresa shouted holding up her arms. Edmund tossed the brush across the room to Theresa and Eustace plunked down with a huff. While Theresa was attempting to wrestle the knots out of her long hair Edmund asked, "So what do you think?"

"It's a horrible, nasty place! It's cramped and smells like a cow's—" Eustace started.

"Not you, bellyacher. Theresa," Edmund said with a glare.

"Well, honestly—mnh," Theresa paused to detangled a strand of hair from the comb. "Honestly, I'm still trying to grasp the idea that we aren't even in our world. Not even in our universe. Our plane of existence. Does that not fascinate you?" Lucy and Edmund exchanged glances.

"What are you two on about?" Theresa questioned when she recognized the expressions the siblings put on when they were communicating without words.

"It's just, you would have gotten along well with Susan," Lucy sighed.

"She thought about things a lot deeper than the rest of us did. She analyzed everything about a situation," Edmund added.

"Sounds like a beastly way to go about one's day," Eustace mumbled.

"Oh, Eustace. Don't be so negative," Lucy harped. "It's not all that bad." Theresa strangled the last knot from her hair and handed the brush over to Lucy. Theresa flipped her head and tussled her dark hair, enjoying the feeling of her fingers on her scalp.

"Oo, that feels much better," she breathed. "Somehow I feel cleaner when my hair is neat. Even if the rest of me is still dirty."

"I think you look fine," Edmund said confidently.

"Ugh," Eustace sneered. Just then Caspian leaned down from the hatch leading to the bridge saying, "Aren't you all coming up?"

"Of course, Caspian," Edmund replied and started toward the stairs followed by Theresa and Lucy. With a grunt Eustace hoisted himself from the floor and trailed behind.

* * *

Theresa had carried her cup of the wine into the room and just took a sip of it. It burned with the heat of temperature and spice. Theresa sputtered with the unexpected pain. She was expecting something similar to cider, but the wine had seared down her throat with the intensity of liquid fire. Eustace voiced her thoughts with vehemence.

"Ugh! What is this awful-tasting stuff?"

"Spiced wine. I brought it especially from Cair Paravel," Caspian stated proudly.

"Ah, Cair Paravel," Lucy sighed reminiscing about her life at the old castle.

"Haven't you got _anything_ helpful? Like Plumtree's Vitimanized Nerve Food?" Eustace insisted. Theresa plainly rolled her eyes.

"It's what my parents always give me for a shock," he mumbled.

"No, Eustace. You'll just have to drink what they have on board," Edmund ragged.

"And how long am I going to have to wear these ridiculous clothes?" Eustace whined. Drinian responded curtly, "Until yours have dried in the galley."

"Eustace, I'm exhausted from this constant complaining so I know _you_ have got to be simply spent," Theresa bantered.

"I know I am," Edmund muttered under his breath. Lucy, attempting to divert the subject of conversation asked, "So how are things back in Narnia, Caspian?"

"Queen Lucy! You don't think I would have left my kingdom if all was not well!" Caspian joked. "Oh, it couldn't be better. And I found an excellent candidate to remain as regent."

"Who is it?" Lucy asked, intrigued.

"Trumpkin!" Caspian harped. Both Eustace and Lucy responded with smiles and "Oh, good old Trumpkin!"

"Yes, he's as loyal as a badger, ma'am, and as valiant as a—" Lord Drinian was interrupted by a knock at the door. However it was so small that Theresa had barely heard it among the other noises on the boat.

"Enter!" he called. The door was pushed open, but Theresa was alarmed to see no one standing before it. Wait, there was the visitor. About two feet above the ground raised the black head of a Mouse. Around his right ear rested a circlet of banded gold in which stuck a brilliant red feather, a striking contrast to the Mouse's midnight fur. Slung from his shoulder a strip of leather held a small rapier hanging at what Theresa assumed to be the Mouse's hip.

"Oh! What is that horrid thing! Get it out! Get it out!" Eustace shrieked, retreating behind the table.

"Reepicheep!" Lucy cheered. "Theresa, this is the one I told you about." Reepicheep addressed Caspian with a bow saying, "Your majesty."

"Uh, it talks," Eustace moaned shrinkingly.

"Oh, Reep. It is good to see you again," Edmund said.

"I am honored to be graced by your presence, Queen Lucy and King Edmund," Reepicheep gushed as he bowed in Edmund and Lucy's direction.

"Reepicheep, this is Theresa Mattlock, a friend of Queen Lucy and King Edmund's," Caspian introduced her.

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Sir Knight," Theresa said, remembering Lucy's story of how Caspian himself had knighted the Mouse.

"It is a pleasure to make yours as well, my lady," Reepicheep stated, "but a shame that you seem to be more acquainted with me than I with you." While he said this he glanced at Lucy with a tiny smile. "Perhaps we shall have opportunity to make more of this acquaintanceship?"

"It would certainly be to my enjoyment," Theresa finished with a nod. Caspian, jaw slack, marveled, "Lucy, you have certainly instructed your friend quickly with regard to Narnian niceties."

"I haven't really done anything," Lucy said, turning smiling eyes on Theresa. "She picks up fast just by observing." After a lull Reepicheep spoke up.

"Captain, I am here at your request."

"Oh, yes. I want to have you present while we explain to Queen Lucy and King Edmund the purpose of our voyage," Drinian answered, "as it has as much to do with you as it does with them."

"But I don't _want_ to know why where we're going! I'm tired and achy, and I want to go home," Eustace moaned.

"Ah, Edmund, perhaps your cousin would like to lie down for a while," Caspian suggested. Edmund replied, "Yes, I believe that's an excellent idea."

"Rhince!" the captain called to his first mate through the open door. A man with brown ringlets of hair and a tuft of a goatee on his chin stepped in front of the doorway saying, "Yes, Captain?" Drinian ordered, "Show this boy, Eustace, to an open bunk in the quarters."

"Yes, Captain," Rhince responded.

"Ugh, finally," Eustace muttered and followed the mate down through one of the hatches in the deck.

"Lord Drinian?" Theresa addressed him. "Would it be acceptable if I took my leave also? I'd like to take a look around the ship."

"Certainly if you so desire," Drinian began. "But you are sure you don't want to hear about the expedition?"

"It doesn't necessarily concern me and I would only hinder the discussion with questions," Theresa responded. She glanced at Lucy and said, "And I'm sure Queen Lucy will give me a simplified account of the news later." Drinian looked to Caspian.

"You would certainly be no bother, but if you would like to leave I see no issue," Caspian said.

"Thank you, your majesty," Theresa answered with a bow. She gently closed the door behind her as she walked out into the open air. The breeze was cool and moist as it licked around her face. She heard nothing but the water splashing dully and an occasional creak of the riggings. The atmosphere was heavy and lazy, like Sunday afternoons when all the neighbors just slept. She strode to the edge of the ship and leaned her elbows on the railing looking out across the waves. Theresa had never been to the sea before and had certainly never been this far away from land. She couldn't see anything but water. Remembering her fear of the waves when she had floated in them just this morning, she smiled. From up on the boat they seemed so miniscule. Not really even worthy of the title _waves_. They were something more like simple billowing wrinkles in the ocean.

Theresa turned around to face the rest of the deck. A set of curving stairs on either side of the bridge led up to the poop deck where she saw a helmsman resting his hands on the wheel. Across the deck there were scattered a few sailors asleep against crates or sitting on barrels and talking with others around. At the bow Theresa could see stairs leading into the head of the dragon hanging over the water. Towards the middle the mast stood planted with a hatch in the deck on either side. It supported the sail and crow's nest high above the ship. That's where she wanted to be.

Theresa walked to the criss-crossed rope ladder hanging at an angle from the underside of the lookout's spot to the rail of the ship. She stood on the rail and swung herself onto the ropes and started making her way to the top. At first the climb was formidable. Looking down Theresa was almost out over the water. But as she continued upward her fears dissipated. When she reached the top she wriggled through a small square opening in the floor of the crow's nest. The area inside was much larger than it appeared from the deck even with the tapered end of the mast jutting through the floor to hoist a Narnian flag above her head. The walls rose to just below her chest and there was enough room for a— as Theresa saw when she turned around—enough room for a man to stretch his legs and sleep. The man was leaning with his back against the wall with chin thrown to the sky. Theresa tip-toed quietly to his side to better see his face. Just as she thought, the man was Lane. She decided to wait and see how long it took him to realize that someone else was in the crow's nest with him. Walking to the side opposite of him, this time with no effort to be silent, she leaned her forearms on the edge of the walls. Cocking her hip and putting her weight on one leg while bending the other knee, she looked down at the ant-like sailors lulling around the deck. It didn't take as long as she thought it would.

"Hey, kid!" sounded a groggy voice. "You're not supposed to be up here! You should get down to the deck before some—" Theresa adjusted to face him still resting her arms on the wall.

"And I'm almost _certain_ you aren't supposed to be sleeping," she joked with a wry wink.

"Oh, Theresa. I… I didn't recognize you with those…" Lane stammered with a glance at Theresa's legs.

"Pants?" Theresa finished.

"Well, yes… Pants," Lane concluded.

"I barely recognized myself actually. I realize now what freedom men have to stretch their legs," Theresa said while exercising the newfound movement in her own legs. "Have you ever tried wearing a dress?" Theresa questioned. Lane innocently replied, "I don't think I ever have."

"Well, don't. But if you ever do I guarantee you will have a new respect for women," Theresa stated.

"I'll remember that," Lane replied. "So really, what _are_ you doing up here?"

"I honestly just wanted to take a look around the ship while Caspian debriefed the others," Theresa said.

"Well, if you're going around the ship alone I would stay away from the galley," Lane whispered with a hand beside his mouth as if shielding his words like a secret.

"What's going on down there you're trying to hide?" Theresa jested.

"Oh, nobody's hiding anything," Lane began. "It's just on these days when nothing's really being done some of the crew heads down there for a little drinking and dancing and… well, all that. Just be careful, especially since you're wearing…ah," Again Lane's eyes darted to her exposed legs. Again Theresa finished, "Pants." Lane chuckled.

"Yes, pants."

"Well, perhaps I should just stay here with you," Theresa said flopping down next to Lane. His arms tensed. She felt his anxiety in his movements.

"Ah, I don't know," he sighed nervously turning his face away. "Captain told me only I should be up here. Wouldn't be too happy to know I let someone else up."

"Oh, _forget_ the Captain," Theresa heaved in exasperation. Deftly guiding his chin with her finger she turned Lane's face towards her own and gently pushed her lips to his. He took a sudden breath through his nose, but she drew away before he could take another.

"There," Theresa breathed as she stood. "Relax a bit. Learn to let a few things go." Before he had time to respond she had contorted back through the little space in the floor and began the descent down the net ladder. Theresa hoped she would talk to Lane again. He was likeable; all he needed was a chance to relax and settle back.

As she reached the deck Theresa realized how late it had gotten. If Narnia's sun worked the same way Earth's did it was nearing dusk and her internal clock let her know that a time for sleep was on its way. The day had been exhausting and she desperately needed rest.

Theresa began stepping down the steep stairs of the hatch but realized that she was in an area of the ship in which she had not yet been. She assumed it was on the same level as the captain's cabin but she looked in the direction of the stern of the ship and only saw stacks of cargo and walls providing rooms containing bunks or hammocks for crew members. When Theresa turned back a man a bit taller than herself stood before her. His hair was a brown and hung loosely from his head. His face was bristly and young. Another, slightly older man came up behind him with a dark complexion and short bushy hair clinging around his head. Theresa took a step backwards, remembering what Lane had said.

"Hullo," the first man said. "I believe we've seen you aroun'."

"Hm, and I don't believe I've seen you," Theresa began attempting to keep the mood light.

"Tha's right," the second man hiccupped. It was then Theresa realized the gentle swaying balance of the two men and the faint, bitter odor of alcohol. "We usually manage to stay outta sight."

"Is there something I can do for you?" Theresa asked attempting to direct their diluted minds.

"Well, if yer offerin'…" the darker man, grinning, mumbled under his breath.

"Oh, of course!" The first man exclaimed over the second as he doubled over, chortling as if he'd just told a joke. Then in one sloppy movement he stepped beside Theresa and thrust a burly arm around her waist. "We 'ave a surprise for ye!" he spat cheerfully with his face uncomfortably near to Theresa's as he pulled her closer to him. The second man strode to the opposite side of Theresa and wrapped his arm across the first man's gripping the other side of her waist.

"A little… _welcome party_, if ye will," the darker man added deviously. Releasing Theresa the first man delivered a solid knock to the second's arm.

"Oi!" the darker man exclaimed jerking his hand from Theresa to massage his injury. "What was that fer?"

"Fer given away the secret, dim-wit!" the first yelled. Theresa, now in the midst of the two angry drunks, took the opportunity of the men's distraction to dart out from between them.

"Ye think to call _me_ a dim-wit, ye louse? This was _my_ idea!" the second man bellowed pushing the first's shoulders away from him. The struck man tottered dangerously, about to completely lose balance.

"Oh, now ye've done it!" the first man growled as he regained stability. Theresa saw him lunge toward the darker man, but she turned and began darting through the piles of cargo and wooden dividers in what she hoped was the direction of the captain's cabin. Behind her she could still hear the bellowing of the two men and the crashes of boxes knocked around in the quarrel.

Finally she reached the short corridor with a room to the left and right and Lord Drinian's cabin straight ahead. She leaned against the wall a moment to catch her breath and heard voices from inside the Lord Drinian's room. The door opened and Lucy and Edmund stepped out just before Caspian and Drinian.

"Thank you for the tour of the ship, Captain," Lucy was saying.

"Yes, she's lovely," Edmund applauded.

"Well, she's one of Narnia's finest," Caspian stated proudly. Lucy turning her head, noticed Theresa.

"Oh, Theresa! This is perfect timing," she began cheerfully. "We were just about to eat some dinner after I put on my shoes. Are you hungry?" Lucy called from the girls' shared cabin.

"You know, actually I'm feeling quite exhausted," Theresa answered in honesty. "I think I'll go ahead and turn in for the night." Edmund inquired eagerly, "Are you sure? It's still early."

"I am. It's just been quite a day and I'm feeling very tired," Theresa added.

"I understand," Lucy said. "I could bring some food back to the room for you when I come in if you'd like." Theresa said she would appreciate it.

"Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Theresa, and I'm sure the captain would say the same," Caspian said. With a nod Drinian murmured, "Indeed."

"We shall see you tomorrow," Caspian concluded. Inclining her head Theresa said, "Thank you King Caspian and Lord Drinian."

"You are very welcome," Drinian replied as he and Caspian turned back into his cabin.

"I'll try not to wake you when I come back," Lucy said following the two men.

"Goodnight, Theresa," Edmund offered.

"Goodnight, _King_ Edmund," Theresa joked. Edmund laughed as he returned with the others. Theresa turned into her room with a sigh and flopped onto the bed tucked into the corner. She threw the sheets over herself and rolled against the wall boxing in the bed, attempting to allow adequate room for Lucy. Pulling her knees to her chest she closed her eyes. Theresa began to recount the day's events. But she drifted to sleep trying to decide if her life in England and her experiences in Narnia were to be counted as happenings of the same day.


	4. Good Morning

**Author's Note**: I actually wrote this one all in one sitting in just a few hours so I hope it doesn't have too many errors. And just a question for anyone who might know the answer: What's the average amount of time in between chapter uploads? In other words how long should an author reasonably take to write a chapter? If you have an idea about the question or the story go ahead and slap down a comment.

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**Chapter 4**: Good Morning

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Theresa pushed the mass pressing against her body. Her sleepy eyes were blinded by the sunlight trickling through the small window. Rubbing the crust from her eyes she sat upright in the bed bracing herself with one arm. To her side lumped a bundle of sheets, the mass pushing her into the wall. Theresa expected that Lucy lay wrapped in the tight cocoon of blankets. Swinging one leg over the bundle she sat straddling it as she inched the top layer of sheet away from what she guessed to be Lucy's head. Theresa smiled when she saw the mop of disheveled hair fluff out from under the tightly bound sheet. Then she unveiled Lucy's face. Her delicate features perfectly rested, looking like those of a porcelain doll. Theresa almost hated to wake her but—

"Lucy," she whispered quietly leaning close to Lucy's smooth skin. No response from the napping china doll.

"Lucy!" Theresa shouted.

"Ah!" the doll screamed kicking as she bolted upright. The little legs though still enveloped in blankets catapulted Theresa from the bed and she landed with a _thud_ on the wooden floor giggling.

"Theresa!" Lucy yelled. "That wasn't funny!" But Theresa could see hints of amusement in Lucy's face— her bright, glass eyes, her round, porcelain cheeks, her curved, painted lips.

"I'm sorry," Theresa chortled. "But it really was!" With those words she burst into laughter only to scramble across the deck in an effort to evade Lucy and her train of sheets diving from the bed. Theresa backed against the wall, still crouching, and watched as Lucy tangled in her blankets crashed to the floor.

"Ow!" Lucy cried. "Oh, that really hurt." The broken doll began whimpering like a puppy.

"Oh, Lucy," Theresa began sympathetically, crawling to the fallen bundle. "I really am sorry." Just as she started reaching for the girl, Theresa saw the wry smile splattered on Lucy's face.

"Got you," Lucy whispered. Theresa began laughing again and this time when Lucy launched herself onto Theresa she successfully tackled her to the ground. The two girls, giving up the wrestling match, lay convulsing with chuckles on the floor. After taking a breath Theresa turned on her side to face Lucy and smiling said, "Good morning, Lucy."

"Good morning," Lucy answered releasing her last giggle. "I hope you slept well."

"I certainly did," Theresa replied. "And you?"

"Oh, yes. I was quite exhausted after yesterday." Lucy reached out to Theresa's shoulder. She cradled Theresa's hair hanging in loose curls. Lucy slid it through her hand to its ends which licked and twisted directly under Theresa's chest.

"You have the most beautiful hair!" Lucy exclaimed. "Perhaps—don't tell her I said this—perhaps even prettier than Susan's."

"I wouldn't say _that_," Theresa retorted with a grin.

"Please let me braid it!" Lucy pleaded. "Please? It will be out of your way and it will look wonderful!" Theresa sat up, offering her long curls to Lucy with her back to Lucy and face to the door.

"Just try not to brush it too much with your fingers," Theresa said, "or it'll be a mess when I take it down."

"Oh, yes!" Lucy cheered. "Don't worry. It will be so beautiful!"

While Lucy began braiding Theresa's hair Theresa asked, "So what did King Caspian and Lord Drinian tell you about this trip?"

"Oh, well, they left Cair Paravel about thirty days ago," Lucy began and then recounted all Caspian had told her about the tournaments on Galma, sickness on Terebinthia, feasting in Redhaven, and even an encounter with Terebinthian pirates. When she finished twisting Theresa's hair into a lengthy French braid, Lucy stood and stretched saying, "Are you hungry? I brought some meat and bread down, but you were already asleep so I threw it out." For the first time Theresa realized how her stomach gurgled and roiled for food.

"Yes, now that you mention it, I am very hungry," Theresa said. "It's just all I could think about last night was getting sleep." Lucy paused for a moment and treading lightly questioned, "Were you alright last night? You seemed a little upset." Theresa thought, trying to remember the events of last night. She had been in some unfamiliar place— Of course, the two drunken sailors.

"It was no matter," she lied. "I was just exhausted and a bit shaken from the yesterday." Lucy relaxed.

"I understand," she said. "It surprised me a bit too the first time I got through." The two decided to find Edmund and Eustace and some food. Knocking on Drinian's door they found Caspian, Edmund, and Eustace all hunched around the little stool-table they had used last night. The table small area was loaded with cups, slices of turkey, and rolls. Apparently the boys had been thoughtful enough to bring food and drinks for Theresa and Lucy.

"Good morning, Theresa and Queen Lucy," Caspian greeted them.

"Good morning," both replied.

"What were those detestable thudding noises?" Eustace nagged.

"I… _fell_ out of the bed accidentally," Lucy replied turning to Theresa with a giggle.

"I think we are about finished with our breakfast," Edmund said looking to Caspian. "Personally I'd like to head up to the top deck and watch the proceedings. It's been a long time since I've been on a ship like this."

"You two," Caspian gestured to Theresa and Lucy, "might meet him up there once you're finished. I have some other business to attend to and I think it would do Theresa good to understand at least in part the workings of a Narnian ship at sea."

"Certainly," Theresa piped.

"Well, I won't be participating in this… _observation_," Eustace whined. "I'll be changing from these outlandish clothes and back into my own and then staying below decks. I wouldn't want to have myself burn—"

"Okay, Eustace," Edmund cut him off. "We don't care what you do as long as you stop complaining. You're stuck here so you might as well deal with it and stop making the rest of us miserable." Eustace pouted with arms crossed.

"Ed, as soon as the girls are finished eating you can go ahead and take them to the top," Caspian began. "I'm heading up now so I'll see the three—" He glanced at the miserable Eustace. "_Four_ of you later on today." And he ascended the stairs to the bridge.

"I believe I'll be leaving too," Eustace stated and pranced from the cabin. After Eustace had slammed the door behind himself Theresa sighed, "That's a relief."

"Indeed," Edmund agreed.

"Edmund," Theresa began, "what's that sword you're carrying." The blade hung at Edmund's hip in a maroon scabbard. The crossbar was silver and at the end of the hilt the depiction of the head of a lion rested resolutely.

"This was Peter's sword when we came here before," Edmund said. "Father Christmas gave it to him and Caspian kept it safe for us after we left last time. I tried to tell Caspian that Peter had left it to him, but he insisted I have it so here it is."

"It's a beautiful sword," Theresa began. "Well, from what I know of swords," she added with a laugh. Lucy interjected for her with a smile, "It _is _a beautiful sword by all standards."

Lucy and Theresa finished their small breakfasts and went with Edmund out through Drinian's cabin door and up through one of the hatches onto the main deck, all the while passing sailors carrying cargo or dashing and darting around the lower level. The ship had gone from yesterday a lazy, quiet scene to a beehive of activity. Sailors high above the ground let out the sails while those below hauled ropes or washed the deck or bore barrels and boxes. For a while the three watched and helped where they could. They went up to the bow from which jutted the snarling dragon's head. A set of stairs led up the head of the dragon allowing a lookout view from the open mouth of the dragon. From the opening one could see all the sea before the ship, and a gentle breeze from the air over the water gusted into the mouth of the dragon.

While Lucy took a turn to clamber up into the dragon's head Theresa observed the deck and saw something she had never seen before. Hoisting a huge rope while bellowing orders hulked a lumbering black creature. It towered above the men around, its huge mussel and curved horns protruding from its colossal head. Its bulging chest and arms were covered in a coat of black hair and its feet—its hooves—were like giant mallets, hammering the deck with each step.

"Ed," Theresa whispered, not wanting to draw attention to her surprise. "What is _that_?" she asked with a nod towards the black creature. Edmund squinted in the direction of her nod, surveying the sailors. He jerked his head up in realization with a silent "oh."

"That's a Minotaur," he whispered back. "They're half man, half bull. They fought for the Witch once, but now most of them have alleged themselves to Aslan."

"Are they, you know, _friendly_?" Theresa questioned considering the frightening size and shouting of the huge Minotaur.

"Oh, yes. Most are very friendly," Edmund answered with assurance. "Unless of course you're an enemy. Watching a Minotaur fight will make you very glad they're on our side of a battle." Theresa heard Lucy step from the dragon's head.

"It's so beautiful up there," she was saying. "I could stay there forever."

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you sat up there for a while, Lu," Edmund responded.

"Really?" Lucy exclaimed. "Then I think I shall! You two can leave if you would like." And she climbed back into the bow.

"I'd like to walk up to the deck where the helmsman is if you don't mind," Theresa said to Edmund.

"I don't mind," Edmund replied. "You mean the poop deck, don't you?" Theresa laughed.

"Yes, I did," she said through a grin. "I just didn't want to say it." Now Edmund laughed too as they started through the maze of busy sailors toward the stern. As they passed one of the hatches Theresa saw Eustace, a large knife in hand, clamber and trip out onto the deck followed by a black, furry something with a streak of red: Reepicheep. He darted around Eustace his rapier drawn yelling at Eustace to "return the fruit and all will be well!" The Mouse made a slice at Eustace's shirt. A bright orange fruit rolled from his ripped clothing and dropped to the deck.

"My shirt!" Eustace shrieked. "You shall pay, Mouse!"

"That's the spirit!" Reepicheep shouted happily, always eager for a friendly joust, dashing between Eustace's frantic jabs, all the while yelling instructions.

"Poise! You've got to have poise!"

"Don't just flail around like a pelican! Thrust! Jab! That's it!"

"Now block! Good!"

"Watch your feet!"

"No! Don't look down at them! Just _feel_ where they are!"

By now the crew had halted work to watch the show. Theresa even spotted Caspian leaning against the frame of a door leading to the bridge. The two combatants dance around the deck, Reepicheep with more elegance than Eustace. Reepicheep poked Eustace lightly every now and then, but Eustace never landed a hit on the darting Mouse, swipe and hack as he might with his elongated kitchen knife.

Finally the duel ended as Eustace tripped back into a basket spilling its contents of beans. Before he could sulk off Reepicheep, surrounded by guffawing sailors, had him jokingly at sword point forcing him to shovel the spilled beans back into the basket as penance for the stolen fruit. In the spirit of the joust Caspian strutted up to Edmund and bowed saying, "Could I interest you in a friendly duel, King Edmund?"

"Why, most certainly, King Caspian," Edmund replied jokingly flourishing as he bowed extravagantly. Suddenly Lucy was by Theresa's side clapping and cheering.

"You know," she said, "Edmund was renowned for his swordsmanship in Narnia. Even though he isn't as old as he used to be, I bet he'll still put on a show." Theresa couldn't help but laugh at this: he wasn't as old as he used to be.

Theresa watched eagerly as Edmund and Caspian drew their swords. After crossing them gently with a tap the two took two steps back each and then the duel began. Caspian started to advance and attempted a quick thrust. Stepping back Edmund quickly parried the attack and then swung his sword around his head bringing it down in an upper cross. Caspian successfully blocked it, but then the real dancing began.

The two duelers moved so quickly Theresa could barely keep up. Caspian's sword flashed and then Edmund's, then a clash or a ring. The moves became more and more intricate with twists and turns and leaps. If only there was music. It could be a real performance. Suddenly Theresa heard the sound of a fiery fiddle singing out. She looked in the direction of the sound. Standing on a barrel there was Lane bowing and arching, bending and kicking to his own music as he sawed away at his instrument. Theresa laughed at the sight and began clapping to the beat along with the rest of the crew.

As the music and clapping began quickening so did Caspian and Edmund's blows. Their movements became a flurry of flashes and cacophony of ringing. Just as the music peaked, it stopped. And so did the dancers. Caspian and Edmund had reached a standstill—Caspian with his sword point at Edmund's stomach and Edmund with the edge of his blade resting on Caspian's throat. Heaving the two relaxed and clapped each other on the back surrounded by the applause and cheering of the crew. Both trudged toward Lucy and Theresa, swords still drawn.

"Excellent job!" Lucy cried.

"Yes, that was amazing!" Theresa added.

"Thank you," Edmund sighed.

"You know," Caspian began with a glance to Edmund, "I believe Theresa could do with a few sword handling lessons."

"That's right!" Edmund exclaimed. "You never know when it might come in handy." Theresa, surprised, asked, "What about Lucy?"

"I've been here before, Theresa, remember?" Lucy commented. "I've learned a lot about that. I just don't make use of it very often."

"Well, then I don't see why I shouldn't learn a few things," Theresa shrugged.

"Here," Edmund said as he handed her the hilt of his sword. "Use Peter's sword for now. It may be a bit heavy." It was very heavy. Theresa felt silly as she raised the weapon. Thankfully the crew had begun to disperse.

"Now you should hold it with one hand, but since it's heavy and it's a hand-and-a-half sword hilt I believe you should be able to use both hands this time," Caspian was saying. As he talked Theresa marveled at the strangeness of her situation. Just yesterday she had been picking up vegetables in a British market. Now she was wearing breeches and taking sword fighting lessons from a king of a land in a different world.


	5. Land in Sight

**Author's Note**: This chapter finally has a little more action in it. I had fun writing it and I hope you have fun reading it. As per usual reviews are marvelous and I honestly do appreciate constructive criticism so don't hesitate to comment something that isn't fuzzy and warm.

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**Chapter 5**: Land in Sight

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Theresa winced as she lifted the instrument to her shoulder. After swinging Peter's heavy sword around for an hour or so yesterday Theresa's arms were weak and achy. But when she had spotted Lane this morning below decks she couldn't resist questioning him about his musical performance the previous afternoon. She had been so entranced by the crisp, warbling notes of Lane's bow grinding against his fiddle's strings. Now she held the fiddle awkwardly in her grasp with Lane gently positioning her arms and head in the correct manner. He had made the hold look so simple before as he had danced and twisted around while he played. With a light grip on her right hand holding the bow Lane tenderly eased the bow lightly across one of the strings. Theresa felt the humming sound vibrate through the hollow instrument at her cheek.

"Now place one of your fingers here," the blonde sailor was saying as he pointed to an indiscriminant area on the fingerboard.

"How do you know where the notes are?" Theresa marveled. Without frets like a guitar, positioning one's fingers to elicit certain notes seemed so abstract and vague.

"Well, it's really all memorization," Lane began simply, "and your ear for music, too." Lane stepped behind her.

"If you don't mind, it would be much simpler to show you the notes if I could stand behind you," he ventured tentatively.

With a grin Lane couldn't quite see from his position behind her Theresa replied, "Of course."

Lane reached his arm up beside hers at the neck of the fiddle, demonstrating a finger placement. Theresa was painfully aware of her revealing breeches as his body pressed closely against hers from behind. She felt a chill as his torso molded to the curve of her back while he continued explaining the position. He pushed her finger onto the board where his had just laid and urged her to pull the bow gently down the string.

"Mmh," he sighed with bliss as the instrument sung. "Now if you keep your arm under it like this," Lane coaxed with a hand guiding her elbow beneath the fiddle. "And your other arm parallel with the bow like this," he added while lifting her right arm to match the bow. "Then it's a lot easier and sounds much better," he concluded, his chin by her shoulder.

"Hm, I see," Theresa murmured turning her face to Lane's. His eyes were deep grey— like the ocean—with flecks of blue and rings of dark dullness encircling his irises. They were longing. And she felt him press closer to her. He leaned forward and gingerly brushed his lips against her cheek. Theresa started shifting to face him—

"Hey, lovebirds!" bellowed a plump-bellied, bearded sailor jaunting around the wall against which Theresa and Lane were tucked. "Land in sight. All hands on deck!"

He was gone so quickly, Lane and Theresa had not time to respond. When he turned away they chuckled disentangling themselves. Theresa quickly covered the instrument with the cloth from which it had come and in the energy of the moment grasped Lane's hand and began darting towards the hatch, laughing sailor in tow. Now Theresa felt like one of the flighty schoolgirls back in England. For the first time, she let her guard down, reveled in the moment of freedom from herself.

On the deck the entire crew had gathered and was hanging over the rails or dangling from ropes and ladders to get a glance at their destination. Before them stretched a long flat island and behind it sloped grey mountains on a separate island. Lane was called over by one of his shipmates while Theresa felt a hand grip her arm. As she turned Lucy exclaimed, "Look, Theresa! Oh, I haven't seen this place in a very long time."

"And does this place have a name, Lu?" Theresa asked.

Lucy laughed and Edmund beside her answered, "It's the Lone Islands."

* * *

When they had approached very near to the islands King Caspian and Lord Drinian began deciding where to put in. Eustace had come out of hiding in anticipation of getting his feet on solid ground and Edmund was advising Caspian on the lay of the islands while Theresa and Lucy stood by.

"Should we put in here, sire?" Drinian asked referring to the flat grassy island most available to view.

"Hm, I don't know Captain," Caspian answered honestly. "Edmund?"

"I don't think it would be much good landing on Felimath," Edmund responded. "It was mostly uninhabited in our days and looks as if it's the same still. The people live mostly on Doorn, the mountain island, and a little on Avra, the third island. You can't see it yet. They only kept sheep on Felimath."

"Then it looks as if we'll have to double around that cape and land on Doorn," the captain said and then added with despondency, "That'll mean rowing."

Lucy piped, "I'm sorry we're not landing on Felimath. I'd like to walk there again. It was so lonely—a nice kind of lonely— and all grass and clover and soft, sea air."

"I'd love to stretch my legs, too," Caspian agreed. "Why don't we row ashore in a landing boat and send her back. And then we can walk across Felimath and have the Dawn Treader pick us up on the other side."

"Oh, do let's!" Lucy cheered. "Edmund?"

"Alright!" he answered.

"You'll come, Eustace and Theresa?" Caspian asked.

"It would be nice to be away from people for a little while," Theresa shrugged.

"Yes! Anything to get off this blasted boat!" Eustace moaned.

"Blasted?" Drinian called, clearly offended. "What do you mean?"

"In a civilized country, like where I come from," Eustace began condescendingly, "the boats are so big, when you're inside you wouldn't know you're at sea at all."

"Well, in that case you might as well just stay ashore," Caspian chided, evoking laughter from everyone but Eustace who remained scowling.

* * *

Before the five left the ship Reepicheep voiced his desire to attend the expedition, and so when the group arrived on shore he was the first onto the beach and led the way up a small ridge. From atop the grassy hill they spotted Avra farther away and Doorn just across the channel. They could even make out some of a town on the coast of Doorn, the capital, Narrowhaven.

"Oh, see how majestic the Dawn Treader looks on the water," Lucy sighed.

"I think it looks like a giant insect," Eustace muttered. "It feels like the ground is moving up and down."

"That's because you've been at sea for a while," Reepicheep commented.

"I knew that," Eustace grumbled.

At the bottom of the knoll Theresa froze and gripped Edmund's arm.

"Stop," she hissed. "What's that over there? By those trees." She pointed to their left.

Edmund squinted. "I don't see anything. It was probably just an animal."

"No need for concern, my lady!" Reepicheep chimed. "We do have our swords." He patted the handle of his rapier affectionately. Theresa relaxed and fell back to walk beside Lucy as they continued across the island. As they neared the ominous grove of trees to their left, Lucy stopped.

"Hold up for a moment, Theresa," Lucy heaved as she leaned against one of the trunks. "I think I've got a rock in my shoe."

"Make it quick, Lu," Theresa said turning to observe the life around her. She noticed a clump of bright flowers opening and closing their petals as they swayed. Theresa shifted to face Lucy again.

"Lu—," she began, but Lucy was no longer in sight. There was only her brown loafer nestled in the grass. It was very quiet—no rustles, no footsteps. Suspecting a joke Theresa called, "Lucy! This isn't very funny! I'm going to leave without you!" But Theresa wasn't moving on until she had found Lucy. She scanned the brush and tree trunks for any sign of Lucy. Ah, there. Theresa spotted a foot peeking from behind one of the trees in the grove. Certain it was Lucy's she started towards it.

"I've got you now, Lu," Theresa growled playfully.

Theresa heard a quiet rustle behind her. Before she reacted there was a burly arm encircling Theresa's waist, pinning her arms to her body, and a grimy hand covering half her face, including her mouth.

"Mmhn!" Theresa tried to yell. She writhed and bucked with every ounce of her strength. The man was too strong. He gripped her against his torso and hoisted her into the air, carrying her back into the clearing. Behind the rest of her party, Theresa saw eight other hulking men creeping. Assuming her friends faced the same fate as she, Theresa tried to scream to them. Nothing came of it but an elbow in the ribs from an additional man with fiery hair who had stepped up beside her, Lucy laying at his feet. Theresa groaned from the pain of the jab and the sight of the unconscious Lucy. Seeing the panic in Theresa's face the man waved a small bag of herbs in front her face. Just that small scent made Theresa light-headed. She then realized what had happened to Lucy.

Now all Theresa could do was watch as the men stalking Edmund, Eustace, Reepicheep, and Caspian advanced onto the unsuspecting victims. The struggle wasn't long. The bandits quickly disarmed Edmund, Caspian, and Reepicheep and subdued them in the same way they had Theresa. When the ambush was over the man restraining Theresa released the hand over her mouth and she gasped heavily for fresh air.

"On your knees!" the man rumbled shoving Theresa, still struggling, to the ground.

"Hroan, help me out with this one!" he growled through gritted teeth as he attempted to keep the squirming girl on her knees. Theresa felt her strength dwindle as the red-haired man stepped in front of her and forced down her shoulders while the other man fastened her wrists together behind her back with a length of rope. The first man grasped her wrists by the rope binding them and pulled her up. Hoping to jerk her hands from his grip Theresa launched herself forward.

She screamed in pain.

Theresa felt as if both of her shoulders had snapped out of place. As she had jumped forward the man had held unrelentingly to her wrists and her arms had contorted to an unnatural angle, straining her joints past their normal range.

"Theresa!" she heard Edmund yell from across the glade, his arms having already been tied behind him.

"I wouldn't do that again," the man holding her arms snarled into her ear.

Theresa in too much pain to speak, hung her head and ceased struggling for escape. The effects of whatever herb the man, Hroan, had shoved in her face were beginning to take place. Her mind became clouded as she stumbled through the field, half-dragged by the man grasping her wrists. When they reached the rest of the group Hroan lay Lucy on the turf, her wrists already secured, and sprinkled a crumbled herb over her face. She started with a cough and as soon as her eyes had opened was hoisted to her feet by the man.

"Careful with her!" Edmund yelled.

"Indeed! The lady is a qu—," Reepicheep began writhing in the arms of his captor, being too small to be tied.

Caspian interrupted, "Acutely allergic to certain plants! She could convulse any minute and die." He shot a glare at Reepicheep.

"Oh ho ho," a large raven-haired man sneered. "It can talk! Fetch the best price of the lot I shouldn't wonder." The group of bandits guffawed.

"So that's what you are," Caspian snarled. "Kidnappers and slavers. I hope you're proud of it."

"Now there, now there," the black-haired man began. "Don't you start your jawing. I don't do this for fun. Got a living to make. Same as anyone else!"

Meanwhile Eustace was wailing to no one in particular about a British consul and proper rights of a British citizen.

"Hey, Pug!" the slaver restraining Eustace called to the black-haired man. "I think we'd better gag this one!"

"Gag me!" Eustace cried. "You don't seem to understand. I— mmf!"

Pug deftly twisted a rag around Eustace's mouth and knotted it tightly at the back of his head.

"That's better," Pug breathed. Theresa couldn't quite disagree with him. "Now let's see what we got here." He began pacing before the captives and assessing each closely, feeling the muscles and scrutinizing the face.

"Don't hurt yourself, Tacks," Pug ordered Reepicheep's captor, who was straining to keep his face out of paws'-reach. Pug kept his distance from the wildly clawing Reepicheep but still marveled at the Mouse. And before Caspian he paused and grabbing a fistful of Caspian's black locks said, "Strong body and the good looks! This one'll bring in a killing, men!" At this the kidnappers cheered.

When he at last circled to Theresa her head hung low and her body ached terribly. She slumped miserably against the man supporting her now with a meaty hand gripping each of her arms. Theresa chided herself for breathing in those herbs. Since she hadn't been given any of the plant used to wake Lucy, the effects lingered like an illness. Pug tilted her chin up with a thumb and forefinger and shouted, "Boys, we got ourselves a looker!"

As Theresa's eyelids sagged Pug turned her face this way and that, gripping her jaw. Lucy, nearest to Theresa, attempted to coax Theresa to remain fully conscious.

"Theresa, wake up! Wake up!" she whispered harshly as the kidnappers hooted at Pug's announcement. Theresa gave no response.

"Ghuy, take her hair down. Get a good look at what we got," Pug ordered. After rinsing it last night and allowing it to dry, Theresa had tied her hair back into a loose bun, not wanting to crush her curls and had left it in all day for convenience. Now the man holding her up, Ghuy, too lazy to simply untie her bun, unsheathed a dagger and sliced the most visible chord cinching her hair. The band fell from her head as her long hair unraveled onto her shoulders. Pug gaped at the display.

"Sirs, I do believe we have in our possession a Terebinthian mermaid!" he joked and of course the men around answered in bellowed laughter. Pug turned away and ordered the band of kidnappers to move out. As she was dragged from the spot Theresa saw the bright blue, cloudless sky for a moment—a white bird flew across her view of it— then she knew only inky black.


	6. Like an Animal

**Author's Note**: This chapter's a little more original than the others. Most of it is centered around OCs. I'd really like some ideas on my dialogue because that's something I really struggle with, so if you have any opinions about the flow of the dialogue I've written or ways to improve it leave a comment, and I'll get back to you on it.

**Acknowledgements**: Thanks to OfTheHuntandMoon for helping me out with this and some other stories! I really appreciate your reviews and suggestions.

* * *

**Chapter 6**: Like an Animal

* * *

"Theresa, look!"

Theresa could barely hear Lucy above the chattering roar of the market crowd and cries of the street vendors. The air was hot and dense, and with every step on the dusty cobblestones Theresa brushed against another sweaty body, mostly men. Theresa could just detect the scent of fresh bread over the stink of dirty humans and animals.

But this was much better than the place in which she had been last night. She and the others had been put into the belly of a small ship. The floor had been covered in soggy hay, and the place had reeked of mud and feces. As the drug had worn off, Theresa had woken with hands held over her head, tied together and fastened to the wall on a chain. Lucy had slumped to Theresa's left, and Reepicheep had been squeaking loudly from a large bird-cage to her right. Caspian had been missing, and when Theresa had asked Lucy about it, Lucy had begun tearing up as she had told Theresa how a man had stepped out from his mansion estate while the kidnappers had been loading the captives into the longboats bound for the slave ship and had purchased Caspian for 150 crescents. Around the space others sat against the walls in the same position as herself. Finally Pug and some of his men had lumbered down the steps leading from the deck and unchained Theresa and the rest of the group and a few other strangers while one man had hefted Reepicheep's entire cage. After rowing them the short distance to the shore, the slavers had strung all the captives, excepting Reepicheep, together by their hands with a long rope and had led them to a road and through the gates of Narrowhaven.

Now as the line of captives stood, backs against a wall and shaded by the overhanging building roof, Theresa turned her head in the direction that Lucy was gazing. In the open area of the marketplace surrounded by shops and temporary booths was a wooden platform about four feet high directly before them. Before the platform sat a single row of men, the wealthy. Their slaves stood at their shoulders to shout and place bids when ordered. The rest of the bidders stood behind the masters and their slaves, yelling and chatting.

Red-headed Hroan pushed a muscular, dust-haired man in a ragged tan tunic up a set of steps to the platform. The man stood, poised, and staring resolutely over the crowd as Hroan attempted to quiet the bidders.

"Voice down, gentlemen!" Hroan shouted. "The bidding has yet to begin!" He gestured to the captive beside him with his free hand. The other held a small, wooden board on which rested a pencil and paper—a business ledger.

"Lot twenty-three!" Hroan introduced the captive as he waved his arm.

"Fine Terebinthian, agricultural laborer! Suitable for the mines or for the galleys! Under twenty-five years of age, not a bad tooth in his head! Good brawny fellow!" he added slapping the man's arm. "Take off his shirt, Tacks. Let the gentlemen see!"

Tacks bounded up the stairs to the platform, knife in hand, and ripped his blade down the back of the captive's tunic and through his shirt-sleeves, throwing the tattered garment onto the ground. The man's bulging chest and rounded shoulders gleamed with perspiration in the beating sun. The crowd marveled with shouts as Tacks jerked the captive in a circle, presenting him to the bidders.

"Oh! There's muscle for you!" Hroan bellowed. "Look at the chest on him!"

"Ten!" shouted a man at the back of the crowd.

"Ten crescents from the gentleman in the back!" Hroan shouted. "You must be joking, sir!"

"Oh, fifteen—eighteen! Eighteen crescents for lot twenty-three!" he called as other bidders raised their hands and yelled numbers. "Do I hear twenty-one? Twenty-one crescents for lot twenty-three! Twenty-one!"

The shouting went on this way until the bid had reached 138 crescents at which time Hroan called once, twice, and then sold the captive to the last bidder. Theresa marveled at the captive's spirit. As the man stood before a jeering crowd, as his shirt was ripped from his back, as he was sold like an animal, he glared with dignity and stood poised with pride. The captive was bigger than both Hroan and Tacks. Theresa wondered why the man didn't simply fight and flee. He could have easily outmatched either of the men standing near him, even with hands bound.

"Lucy, why doesn't he fight back?" Theresa whispered to Lucy who stood next to her against the wall. Lucy answered with a nod to her left. Theresa looked and saw three soldiers, uniformed and armed, milling and chatting in the shade of one of the buildings' roofs as they watched the proceedings. So the slave market was legal. Perhaps even government-sponsored.

Hroan scribbled on his ledger as the man was led from the platform. Ghuy paced up and down the line of captives waiting for Pug to give orders as to which was to be sold next.

"Ghuy!" Pug commanded. "Let's get our money's worth out of the little beauty!"

"Yes, sir!" Ghuy rumbled with a chuckle as he approached Theresa. Her heart leapt into her throat and pounded against her neck. She didn't want to leave. She didn't want to be separated from them. How would she find them? How would she get back? Theresa had always been level-headed and calm, but now as the slaver untied her from the rope line, she feared. She had hoped to be like the first captive—confident and brave. But she feared.

Ghuy gripped her tightly with meaty fingers, bruising her arm. He handed her to Tacks waiting at the bottom of the steps to the platform who pushed her before him, knife-point to her back. Now her pulse beat in her eardrums as she stepped into the sunlight beating down on the platform. The men below her hooted and bantered, but her face remained emotionless. Inside she roiled with anxiety, but her expression now betrayed nothing but calm.

Theresa couldn't resist looking down at the faces in the crowd. Some grinned, some pouted, some glared. One pitied. It was that of a young woman, not much older than herself. She stood behind the bulking shoulder of a ponderous man sitting on the first row whose head towered over most of those on the solitary bench around him. Her copper hair was pulled behind her head, and she wore a dark green, linen frock falling to her ankles and dipping treacherously low in a vee at her chest.

As Theresa met eyes with the woman, the enormous, bearded man with balding brown hair, who had been studying Theresa intently, lifted a finger over his shoulder to the woman's chest and arduously flopped his massive head to face her, saying something to her as he did. The young woman nodded, and Theresa attempted to pick out the man's words over the crowd noises. But then Hroan began bellowing again.

"Oh, gentlemen! Here's a prize for you!" Hroan began. "We've got a looker today, lads!"

The men cheered and began shouting numbers.

"Voice down! Voice down!" Hroan called over the commotion.

"Let's see," he speculated quietly while taking a step away from Theresa and eyeing her closely. "Ah, yes. Right, gentlemen! Lovely complexion, remarkable teeth! Hair of a Terebinthian mermaid, lads! Look yourselves!"

With this Tacks came from behind and spun Theresa around, gripping her arms, as he had the first captive.

"Oh, yes!" Hroan exclaimed. "And if those legs are anything to judge by, there's a fine, feminine figure underneath those men's clothes!" Theresa's heart drummed against her chest. They were treating her like livestock.

"Shall we make certain?" Tacks asked mischievously as he held the nape of Theresa's shirt out, his dagger poised above it as if he were preparing to slice her tunic as he had the first captive's. Now the bidders began shouting again.

"If you dare to touch me," Theresa growled quietly.

"Oh, gentlemen! Got a bit of fire!" Hroan guffawed. "But that won't be necessary, Tacks."

The bidders hollered and moaned.

"Listen now! Listen now! This one'd be a match for your housework! And able to suffice for any other pleasures you so desire!" Hroan yelled with a wink to the bidding men. "Lot twenty-four! Do I see twenty for lot twenty-four? You, sir? Twenty-seven? Twenty-seven for lot twenty-four! Who'll bid thirty? Thirty crescents, men! Surely this one's worth that! There, thirty crescents from this man here!"

The bid continued to rise. At 128 crescents the large man before the young woman in the crowd elbowed her lightly in the stomach. She raised her arm.

"200 crescents, m'lord," she called above the bidders. Her voice was shrill among the bellowing men's cries.

"Oh ho!" Hroan shouted. "Good Lord Boak just upped the bid, gentlemen."

The corpulent man, Lord Boak, nodded in acknowledgement to Hroan.

"Who'll match that?" Hroan called over the crowd. "None? No takers? Going once! Twice!" A pause. "Sold! The little looker to Lord Boak! Thank you, sir!"

Theresa was jostled from the stage by Tacks. At the bottom of the steps another man tied a length of rope to her bound hands and led her by it through the crowd before the platform and to the Lord Boak and the copper-haired woman, now both standing.

"Your purchase, my lord," the slaver said extending the rope to Boak who towered over him.

"Thank you," Boak heaved. He grunted to the woman who stepped forward and took the rope from the slaver's outstretched hand.

"That'll be 200, Lord," the slaver asserted, hand remaining outstretched. Boak huffed sarcastically, "Indeed."

From his draping robes he pulled a small cloth sack jingling with coins and plopped it into the slaver's open hand.

"Much obliged, sire," the slaver gushed with a bow.

"Humph," Boak spouted as he turned from the slaver. He led the young woman holding Theresa through the masses and out into the open street. The auburn-haired woman leading Theresa held the rope limply in her hand as if inviting Theresa to dash away. But to where would she run? Back to Lucy and the others? No. There was nowhere for her to go.

Finally after many turns and twists along backstreets and cobblestones the houses became farther spread and much larger. There was less dust and more green. Green trees before the houses. Green bushes hugging their walls. Green vines ensnaring the windows and doors.

Boak turned to one mansion. He pushed through the double doors. Inside was not a house, but an open courtyard. In the middle stretched a blue pool, dug into the ground, around which grew ferns and flowers. All around the perimeter ran an overhanging, tiled roof, supported with pearly columns, underneath which ran a stone sidewalk. Along the sidewalk marched a pair of men, a sword and a whip on the belt of each—guards. The wall to left was windowless and doorless; it had no rooms behind it. But in both the back wall and right wall gaped windows and doors, and stacked on top of each wall towered a second level of the house with jutting balconies and another tiled roof on top.

"Terence! Elisia! Food and drink!" Boak bellowed to the magnificent courtyard. Theresa heard the tramping of feet inside the house. And from a door to her right a man and a woman walked, one holding a tray of food—cheese, bread, fruit—and the other holding a glass and a bottle of wine. Boak lumbered to a table on the sidewalk and plumped into a chair next to the table, dwarfing the furniture with his size. After leaving the wine and food on the table the servants quickly returned to the house.

Suddenly two small, identical boys, each with chestnut hair darted from one of the bushes near the pool.

"Father!" they cried, dashing towards the man.

"What have you bought this time?"

"How much did you pay?"

"Did Pug push a man off the stand this time, too?"

Boak ignored the boys as he stuffed bread into his mouth and crumbs clung to his curly beard.

"Is it a boy?" one asked as he curiously stepped up to Theresa, confused by her breeches.

"Let's see!" the other yelled as he snatched the hem of Theresa's untucked tunic and began lifting it up.

"Rowl! Rowlin!" the copper-haired woman scolded. "Off with you to the kitchen! It is high time for your lunch."

"Justina, you can't tell us what to do!" one snarled indignantly.

"Just 'cause Father likes you doesn't mean we do!" the other boy cried. Theresa saw hurt flash across the young woman's features.

"Boys," Boak muffled through his cheese without looking up from his meal. "Go." The two dashed off in the direction from which the two servants had earlier come.

"Justina," Boak addressed the woman, "take her to the quarters and prepare her. Bring her to my chamber tonight."

"Yes, my lord," Justina replied with a bow. She led Theresa by the rope into the house. Immediately as they were in the house and out of sight of Boak, Justina knelt to the ground and began fumbling with the knots holding the ropes around Theresa's wrists.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured as she untied a knot. "I'm so sorry."

"You've done nothing wrong," Theresa comforted shaking her arms as the last tie fell from her wrists.

"You don't deserve this," Justina said as she stood. "And he won't apologize."

Theresa knew she meant Boak.

"What's your name?" Justina asked.

"Theresa."

"My name is Justina," the woman replied. "I've been here somewhere around eight years. They took me from Redhaven when I was about your age."

"Have you not tried to escape?" Theresa asked following Justina down a corridor.

"I did once when I first came," Justina sighed sadly. "Boak's guards caught me, and Boak had me whipped. After that I never attempted it again. But since the twins have come he has treated me differently. More like a person than a slave."

Theresa remembered the children from the courtyard.

"If Boak is their father, who is their mother?" Theresa questioned after following Justina into a room and shutting the door behind herself.

"I am," Justina answered simply.

"But you're—you can't be much older than I," Theresa exclaimed.

"This is true. I became pregnant about seven years ago," Justina sighed, opening a wardrobe sitting against a wall.

"Why do they treat you so?" Theresa wondered. "Why don't they call you mother?"

"Boak refuses to tell them who their mother is. He insists they believe she died in childbirth," she replied dismally.

"If he was ashamed of the pregnancy because it was out of marriage, why did he not simply marry you when he found you were pregnant?" Theresa asked.

"You must not be from the Islands," Justina asserted as she turned from the wardrobe, dress in hand, and looked Theresa sternly in the face. "Masters don't marry slaves. They use them, but they don't marry them. However, for some reason he takes special interest in me. Perhaps it's because I was his first girl. Perhaps it's because I bore his children."

"Are you… are you the only one he uses?" Theresa ventured cautiously.

"No. There are two other girls," Justina muttered. "He buys a new one every few years."

Theresa felt the same heaving of her heart as she had in the marketplace.

"But try not to think about that," Justina added sympathetically and continued, "Let's go to the washroom, and you can clean up a bit before the other girls and I have dinner."

Justina showed her to a small, tile room with a bathtub. Theresa was surprised to find running water flowing to the tub as Justina filled the bath with it. After Theresa bathed herself, Justina used a comb from a cabinet to brush Theresa's hair and then helped her into the dress Justina had given her. The white, billowing sleeves hung at Theresa's arms exposing her bare shoulders, and they were cinched just above her elbows and then againat her wrists. When Justina finally managed to lace firmly the mahogany, strapless bodice, it formed tightly to Theresa's figure and came low across her chest. The skirt of the dress hung to the ground and split down the middle to reveal the white underskirt.

Justina lined Theresa's eyelids with a charcoal pencil and brushed a gel onto Theresa's lashes, elongating them. She dusted Theresa's face with a light powder and smoothed a pink blush over her cheeks. Theresa was surprised when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror. Her eyelashes rimming her green eyes were fuller and darker, and her eyes themselves seemed more beautiful than ever. Her face was gently contoured, and her cheekbones rested high on her face. Her hair had begun to dry and now formed waving, loose curls around her head and caressed her bared shoulders.

"Well, you do look beautiful," Justina said with a quiet smile. She escorted Theresa, now barefoot, down to a room adjacent to the kitchen in which stood a small table laden with a few wooden plates and cups. Theresa could see through a window that the sky was dark, and night had fallen. She wondered what had happened to the others. Two girls sat at the table, one with silky, ginger tresses and another with a tan complexion and waving black hair, each of them younger than Justina. They had brought food and drinks to the table already for Justina and Theresa, and Justina thanked them as she and Theresa sat down to eat.

Justina introduced Theresa to the two other girls, but Theresa wasn't focusing. She ate the food to be polite but didn't taste it at all. She couldn't escape the anxiety pressing onto her chest. The emotional fear had now taken on a physical characteristic. It seized her limbs and constricted her throat. She didn't rationalize this time. There was no way out.

"We'd best be going," Justina whispered to Theresa. Theresa couldn't speak. She simply nodded. Now Justina guided her through many hallways and corridors lit with torches on the walls until she finally stopped before one magnificent oaken door. The doorway replaced the corner of the adjoining of two hallways, the one the two had walked down and one turning to the left, and was at an angle facing the matching corner. Boak's chamber was at the back corner of the top floor of the house.

"He's at his meal now," Justina began, "but he'll be here soon."

She faced Theresa and gripped her arms and stared into her eyes.

"Just do what he says. For Aslan's sake just do what he says," Justina breathed.

"Aslan?" Theresa croaked desperately. "I thought He was gone."

"No, no, no," Justina smiled reassuringly, "He's always here. With you. With me. He always will be."

Justina wrapped Theresa in her arms and held her tightly. For just a moment Theresa's fear subsided.

"Now go," Justina whispered gently, "and have courage."

Theresa pushed through the door and let it fall closed again behind her with a _thud_. The room was dimly lit by a four shrinking candles sitting on a desk at the wall to the left and two large, open-air windows, drapes hanging to the sides, which opened in both the wall to the left and the right. The walls met in the back of the room directly ahead of her, and catty corner to the conjunction stood an enormous four-posted bed with an intricately decorated canopy overhead. The scarlet fabric was entwined in gold needling, and lace trim lined the edges.

Theresa gingerly crawled onto the plush, midnight blue bedspread and sprawled on her side with an arm over her face. She was so afraid. Any moment now. Any moment. She tried to breathe calmly and slowly. She tried to think of Aslan. A lion. How could a lion care now? She didn't know what to expect. A strange man had purchased her from a market like an animal, and now he was going to use her and throw her outside again like an animal. She felt hot tears rise up to her eyes. No, no. Not now. Have courage.

She heard footsteps in the corridor. She heard the doorknob click as it was turned. She heard the hinges creak as the heavy door swung open. But she didn't look.

"Theresa," Caspian's calm voice beckoned from the doorway.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I hope you felt the intensity of the plot in this chapter! I actually added that resolving last sentence on this chapter after I posted it, so some of the comments may have been posted before I added on Caspian's entrance.


	7. Crossing Paths

**Author's Note**: I know this chapter's short, but I felt that this scene needed special attention. Plus this story could use at least one short chapter after all those long ones! More dialogue in here. Again tell me what you think about the authenticity of the sound and flow of it as far as what it seems like people of this setting would say. Please let me know with a review or PM!

**Acknowledgements**: Thanks to MCH for inspiring this chapter! I probably would have skipped over this scene entirely if you hadn't said anything, and now I really feel like it's a great asset to the story.

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**Chapter 7**: Crossing Paths

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Reluctantly, hesitantly Theresa lifted her arm hiding her face. She raised herself up on an elbow, digging deep into the luxurious comforter, and then to her hands and knees, staring at the man before her. Caspian wasn't supposed to be here. Boak was supposed to be here. It was too wonderful to be reality. For a moment she trembled, then shook violently as great sobs racked her body. She collapsed back onto the bed, whimpering and convulsing. Theresa was overcome by joy and fear—fear of what may have happened. She heard Caspian stride to the edge of the bed and felt a firm hand on both her arms.

"What has he done to you?" Caspian growled in indignation. "Theresa, what has he done?"

Delicately she lifted her body, reaching for support to the arm holding hers. She sat up, knees tucked in the folds of her dress beside her and looked at Caspian with teary eyes, calming her tremors.

"Nothing," Theresa breathed with a small, thankful smile. "Nothing yet."

She sobbed into his shoulder as she leaned on him, she kneeling on the bed and Caspian standing at its edge. She weaved her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his bristly jaw.

As she drew away, Caspian held her at arms-length and gazed into her tired, forest irises.

"We're here now," he sighed. He paused. "We're here now," with reassurance.

He took her quavering hand and guided her from the mattress towards the door.

"Wait," Theresa sniffed. Her skirts rustled as she stepped to the desk against the wall. With one breath she blew the flames from the four wicks. Caspian held out an arm as she returned to his side. She looped her arm through his, feeling the soft fabric over his forearm.

Together they navigated through the hallways and past doors, down steps, into the moonlit courtyard. Along the sidewalks stood everyone in the household. Caspian walked Theresa before the line. First there were the slaves—about two-dozen. Then there were Justina and the other two girls. Justina smiled as they passed. Rowl and Rowlin were held firmly with a hand each by Lucy whose face lit up when she saw Theresa. And finally Boak stood with hands clasped loosely before his paunch as he towered over the rest of the heads.

Caspian released Theresa and gestured her to a group of people watching from the corner—Edmund, Eustace, Reepicheep, Drinian, and a man with wiry, gray hair whom she had never seen. She embraced Edmund as Caspian began speaking.

"As Emperor of the Lone Islands and King of Narnia," Caspian began regally, addressing the entire household, "I, Caspian X, have declared all slaves free and placed in the governor's stead, a new ruler for the Lone Islands, the Duke Bern."

Caspian said this with an arm extended in Theresa's direction, and she saw the gray-haired man beside her nod slightly.

"He shall see to it that the Lone Islands are governed justly in my absence," Caspian declared. "And now, Lord Boak—as your title presently stands—you shall relinquish ownership of these citizens voluntarily. Otherwise we shall take them by force, and a penalty shall be administered."

"Yes, my liege," Boak growled quietly.

"Your answer, sir?" Caspian called loudly, although he had heard Boak's murmured response.

"As your majesty sees fit, I shall act," Boak rumbled.

"Hm, that's just it," Caspian thoughtfully responded, stalking silently to stand, hands behind back, before Boak. "It has come to my attention that you have not 'seen fit' to act according to the basic Narnian principles of respect for the rights of all Narnian citizens—poor or rich, Beast or human, male or _female_—and you will be punished according to your crimes." Caspian mockingly spit his words, hate spilling from his lips.

"My lord," Boak retorted, "you cannot convict me for breaking laws which were not in place when I broke them—namely the ownership of household slaves!"

Drinian stepped forward, angrily addressing Boak.

"You dare to speak so to your king?"

Caspian lifted a warning hand.

"No need, Lord Drinian," he said, not taking his eyes from Boak. Drinian backed into the corner again.

"Lord Boak," Caspian growled, "I believe that there is no reason at this point to play coy. You and I both know to what actions I refer, and unless you abandon this charade I shall be forced to state explicitly your crimes before your entire household." Caspian nodded slightly to the red-headed boys standing on either side of Lucy.

Boak shifted nervously with a sideways glance at Rowl and Rowlin.

"I understand, your majesty," Boak heaved in defeat.

"Good," Caspian said. "Your sentence and fine will be decided by the Duke Bern. Until such a time when he is available you shall be retained in the Narrowhaven prison. Your children have been arranged to be cared for by Lady Justina in your absence, no matter its extent. She has volunteered as their guardian in the likely event that part of your punishment includes loss of custody of them."

Theresa looked to Justina and saw her beaming with excitement. Now Caspian stepped away from the reeling Boak and addressed the entire group once more.

"The Duke has decided that until a time when the rest of you are able to acquire new jobs and homes, you may reside on Boak's estate. However this is a temporary gift, and the Duke expects you not to abuse it. You are now all officially free Narnians!"

A cheer rose from the small group, and as a couple of uniformed guards bound Boak's pudgy arms behind his back, many of the men and women knelt at Caspian's feet praising and thanking him. Theresa hoisted her skirts and dashed to Justina. She threw her arms around the copper-haired, young woman as Justina returned the embrace around Theresa's waist. For a while they remained this way; Theresa felt Justina shuddering with joy. Theresa drew away holding Justina's teary face in her palms.

"You're free," Theresa whispered.

"_We're_ free," Justina breathed, releasing a short laugh as she hugged Theresa again.

"The boys," Theresa said, the lilt of a question in her voice as she untangled herself from Justina's embrace.

"It seemed wrong for me not to claim them," Justina explained, rubbing a sleeve under her wet eyes. "I'll tell them someday. I don't know when. Or how. But I'll tell them."

Theresa grinned knowingly.

"Thank you for everything," Theresa expressed, clasping one of Justina's hands in her own.

"I've done nothing," Justina began humbly. "Aslan was the One working."

Theresa pulled her face into a smile of that of an adult sympathizing with a child's innocent delusion. Theresa believed in Aslan's existence. But she didn't think He could possibly be involved in her own life either in Narnia or in England.

"Well, I'm at least grateful that He allowed our paths to cross," Theresa whispered.

"Regardless of the circumstances," Justina added with a squeeze to Theresa's hand.

"Justina, before I go, I think you should know something," Theresa ventured hesitantly.

Justina responded, "Yes?"

"I'm not from Narnia," Theresa concluded. "Or Calormen or Archenland or Telmar or anywhere else in this world."

"I don't understand." Justina cocked her head quizzically.

"You see Lucy," Theresa said with a nod to the girl, who was consoling Rowl and Rowlin. "And Edmund." She gestured to the boy conversing with Drinian. "I come from the same place that they, and the other King and Queen of Old, come from. It's a different world. You can't get to it by sailing or walking."

"I guess that means that you won't be in Narnia forever then," Justina said with a sad smile.

"I'm afraid that's the case," Theresa sighed. "We may not even stay here for as long as the Pevensies did once. I just wanted you to know so that you'll understand if we don't ever see each other again."

"I understand," Justina replied quietly. "But even if we never meet again, I won't forget you."

"And neither shall I," Theresa breathed into Justina's shoulder as they held each other a final time.

"Theresa," Caspian beckoned from the gate.


End file.
